Casual Fridays aboard the USS Enterprise
by ally ally oxenfree
Summary: ...and the ensuing complications. "The only information I have gathered is that doctors do not wear their uniforms and headwear is not necessarily involved." Kirk without a shirt! Doctors out of uniform! Spock in leather pants! BonesUhura, S/K and plot.
1. In which definitions are decided

Casual Fridays aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise…  
…And the Ensuing Complications.

**Chapter One** – "Casual Friday, sir? I do not understand."  
**Author's Note**: Slash. S/K. I hope you like. :D It's a new style for me so feel free to concrit.

"Casual Friday, sir? I do not understand." Spock was standing next to the captain's chair as Kirk scribbled something official-looking onto his PADD.

"Casual Friday? Sounds interesting- any guidelines, Captain?"

"Just be…just be _awesome_, Lieutenant Sulu."

"Alright, Captain, can do."

"Sulu." Chekov turned to the pilot, who had returned to his miscellaneous calculations. "Casual Friday is Russian inwention."

"Did someone say _Casual Friday_?" Uhura had just then entered onto the bridge, and her expression was a compromise between incredulous and amused.

"Yes, Lieutenant. Casual Friday. Consider it an _order_."

"Jim, you're the most half-assed starship captain I've ever met. I'm a doctor- I'm wearing my goddamn uniform. It's _sterile_."

"Oh, hello, Bones. Nice to see you- what brings you to the bridge today?"

"…Captain, what is a Casual Friday?"

Kirk ignored Spock. "Just wear a hat or something, Bones."

"I don't _own_ any hats."

"Commander Sulu, what is a Casual Friday? Is it a holiday in which humans wear hats for ritualistic purposes?"

"You should probably ask Lieutenant Uhura, Mr. Spock. She's our cultural expert, after all."

"I could make you a hat," Jim offered helpfully. "Out of paper or something."

"No, Jim. _No_."

"Lieutenant Uhura, what is the purpose of a Casual Friday? I have gathered that it involves,, ah, being, as the captain stated previously, ah, 'awesome', doctors not wearing their uniforms and the utilization of hats. I am most curious as to the purpose of such a holiday. What is its cultural significance?"

"Spock, you don't _have_ to wear a hat. Or necessarily be awesome."

"Lieutenant, that does not clarify the origins or purpose of such a holiday. Now the only relevant information that I have obtained is that doctors do not wear their uniforms on a Casual Friday. Lieutenant? You appear most distracted."

"…ah, just thinking. About…Friday," Uhura said, her gaze very pointedly fixed on the ship's doctor.

If Spock had been human, he would have sighed. As it were, however, the half-Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the exchange between the two and turned to the doctor in a rather put-out fashion. "Doctor McCoy, what is a Casual Friday? The only information I have gathered-"

It was here he paused, casting a long glance at Uhura, who was rather overtly "checking out", the Terran phrase was, the Chief Medical Officer.

"-with the assistance of Lieutenant Uhura- is that doctors do not wear their uniforms and headwear is not necessarily involved, although due to her inflections and changes in posture I would perhaps infer that headwear is, in fact, encouraged. However, no one has been quite clear in defining this holiday to me, and thus I apologize if I have misinterpreted the function of this Friday, but I still require the historical and cultural connotations of the date."

The captain and the doctor stopped their bickering, glanced at each other and then turned to Spock. Uhura was still eyeing McCoy appraisingly. The doctor raised an eyebrow and Spock's eyebrows furrowed in a decidedly un-Vulcan manner- he appeared downright _impatient_.

"Spock, a Casual Friday is a day when you wear something…other than your uniform," Jim finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen as the CMO and communications officer seemed to come to some unspoken conclusion and turned to Jim. "Usually something that you find comfortable, or that you would wear on shore leave. What you'd wear if you didn't have to be in uniform. Um, it's been around since God knows when- my first job when I was like eight had a Casual Friday. But, um, that's irrelevant."

"…ah. I understand. Thank you, Captain." It occurred to Commander Spock that the Captain had been rambling again- he'd been doing that a lot as of late, and normally Dr. McCoy's reaction was one of utmost amusement. However, the good doctor was currently examining the Vulcan's ex-girlfriend and seemed rather pre-occupied.

Spock returned to his post. Sulu was laughing to himself.

Later that day they had a brief shore leave on an industrialized world with an economy heavily based on gambling, strip clubs and shopping. McCoy took Spock shopping.


	2. Pants

Casual Fridays aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise…

…And the Ensuing Complications.

Chapter Two – "Anyone seen Spock?"

Author's Note: This chapter comes after chapter one, seeing as it is chapter two. Also, fanservice for the fucking win. And plot starts soon.

Friday morning. Kirk was, as usual, the first to the bridge. He was wearing jeans. And nothing else. He was leaning back, his legs propped up on a control panel, and his hands were clasped behind his neck- the usual portrait of casual confidence. "Mornin', Sulu. Lookin' awesome."

"Likewise, Captain," the pilot said, relieving the Beta-shift pilot. He was wearing a Hawaiian print, button-up shirt of an obscene pink and light blue jeans. Flamingly, flamingly gay- the captain approved.

Chekov and Uhura entered together- Chekov in an oversized white t-shirt and rocketship pajama pants- quite frankly adorable- and Uhura wearing knee high boots that covered more skin that her shirt and skirt combined. Not that anyone was complaining.

"Has anyone seen Spock?" Kirk asked, shifting to a slightly more upright position and spinning about in the chair.

"Is he not here yet? I saw him at breakfast."

Jim craned his neck backwards to see his friend, who was wearing battered black slacks and a worn white dress shirt, buttoned half way up his chest and with the sleeves half-way rolled up.

"Damn, Bones. You look good," the captain said. Neither of them had to turn around to know that Uhura most definitely appreciated the doctor out of uniform.

Which was when Spock strolled onto the bridge as if everything was completely and entirely normal. His expression was characteristically serene, almost confident. Spock was wearing leather pants.

And indeed, as Jim observed keenly, these were some leather pants. Or perhaps pleather, considering the Vulcan was, well, Vulcan. Nevertheless, they clung to the contours of his first officer's body most starkly against the white walls of the Enterprise- and his skin. Kirk let his gaze drift upwards and there was a brief flash of pale skin before Spock pulled his shirt down slightly- it was a black t-shirt that had been ripped in multiple places, then patched up with fishnet just sparse enough to show hints of the man's chest.

"Good morning, captain. Doctor McCoy was agreeable enough as to help me assemble culturally correct clothing for your Casual Friday. I trust you find it agreeable? I have noticed you are not wearing a shirt, and thus assume that I have fulfilled all standards of decency."

Jim nodded slowly. Very slowly. "Maybe _every _Friday should be a Casual Friday."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I must admit that I would find such agreeable," he said, his tone completely neutral.

He then abruptly turned to his station and began to work.

Someone let out a low and appreciative whistle, but Kirk was too dazed to notice.

The atmosphere on the bridge for the entirety of the shift was alternatively insanely tense (in the sexual way, that was, as Bones kept appearing on the bridge, Chekov insisted that pink was very flattering on Lieutenant Sulu, Spock…well, Spock was just plain distracting for every individual attracted to males, and there were quite a few of those on the bridge that day) or most light ("I spy…something black." "Mr. Spock's hot pants, Mr. Sulu? I'm ashamed of you, keep your eyes on your work!" "I must inquire, Captain- how can ones pants have an elevated temperature?")

It was around the end of the shift when Kirk announced that he was going to drop into engineering and talk with Scotty (who was most definitely wearing a kilt; the captain had seen him that morning).

"Captain," Spock had said, tilting his head the barest touch to the left. "May I accompany you to engineering? I desire a word with Mr. Scott as well."

Of course Kirk had agreed. He turned over the conn to Sulu and they left.

Which explained why they were now in the turbolift. Together. Spock looking completely innocent and Kirk not wearing a shirt.

"Are you sure, Captain, that my attire is entirely agreeable?" To his surprise, there was an underlying current of anxiety in his first officer's voice. "I have noted that many members of the bridge paid to me an undue amount of attention. Am I dressed inappropriately?"

"You, Mr. Spock, are dressed most excellently. I might go so far as to suggest that we're all staring at you 'cause you're really hot."

"I assume your usage of the word 'hot' is vernacular, Captain."

"…yes, Mr. Spock. Yes."

"My thanks, then, Captain. Dr. McCoy was the one who recommended the attire. He said that you might appreciate it."

"…really, now."

"Affirmative, Captain." Spock looked rather pleased with himself. Well, for a Vulcan.

There was an awkward moment where everything was quiet. Kirk realized that he was cold.

"I'm cold," he said.

The doors clicked open and there was another awkward moment.

"You're cold, Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock. I'm cold."

"Captain, the body temperature of a Vulcan is much higher than the body temperature of a human. I would recommend that you return to your quarters to obtain a shirt before we go to engage Mr. Scott in conversation. However, until then, there is no need for you to remain uncomfortable. Your heart rate and rate of respiration have increased to a level that indicates a drop in body temperature." Which was when Spock leaned forwards with all of his fucking Vulcan grace and ease and punched the button to take the to quarters. And then pulled Jim Kirk against his body protectively.

The captain was totally and completely unsure as to how to react and so went with his gut- or, well, maybe other significant body parts as well. He wrapped his arms around his first officer's waist and tried not to shiver from the cold. Spock was _warm_. Spock did not move to push his captain away, instead keeping his right arm wrapped around the human.

When the doors opened once again, Spock did not let go. He kept his arm wrapped around the captain's shoulder as they strode through the (thankfully) empty hallways before reaching the captain's room, at which point he released his grip on the man and resumed a normal, neutral stance.

Kirk typed in his access code. The doors slid open. He stood there absently for a moment before jerking his head towards the door whilst looking at Spock.

"Care to come in for a moment?" he asked.

The Vulcan stood there for a moment, then nodded slightly. Jim led him inside.


	3. Ensuing Complications I

**Casual Fridays on the U.S.S. Enterprise...**  
...and the Ensuing Complications.

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much for your support. There's less dialog in this chapter, hopefully- as of late I've been trying to hone my ability to write using a character's voice, so please point out if I write something that sounds OoC. Also, I'm gonna throw out that this is my least favourite chapter. And the worst I think. Eye-em-aitch-oh and all that. Umm...I'm out of town next week so I hope the next update comes soon but unfortunately I can't promise much...eh, on with the chapter?

**Chapter Three**

Absently, as he was poking through his dresser (about 1/2 Star Fleet issued clothing, and the other half most certainly not issued by higher-ups unless the higher-ups had some uses for Kirk that Spock was not privy to), he said aloud, "Vulcans kiss with their hands, right?"

"I...beg your pardon, Captain?" Spock had situated himself next to the door, and had been standing there with his typical statuesque almost-grace, but at this he looked surprisingly human, doing something not unlike a double take.

"Isn't that, like, really awkward?" White t-shirt, no. That- under no definitions appropriate. Leather jacket, no... "Cause other people must accidentally touch your hands and not even realize it."

"Sometimes, Captain, it is." The captain did not notice the twitch at the corner of his first officer's mouth as he leaned back against the wall. "I do recall one specific incident in which Nurse Chapel in the sick bay grabbed my hands, which was...most unfortunate. However, I have found that _most_ individuals with whom I do not desire contact have respected my personal space."

Kirk chuckled, reaching into the depths of a drawer with comic over-exertion. He, however, seemed oblivious to this, pulling out a handful of clothing which he dropped onto the floor. Only to search for whatever he sought once more. It didn't make much sense to the Vulcan, keeping ones belongings in such a haphazard fashion, but then again few things about the captain were particularly well thought out. "Am I to understand that there are some persons you don't mind touching, then, Mr. Spock?" he said, shutting the drawer and moving on to the one below it.

"Perhaps, Captain." His tone was completely neutral. He had, however, raised an eyebrow at the question. "I would perhaps suggest that if a person would initiate physical contact and I should not react by inflicting either strong language or gratuitous pain, I am not averse to that person's touch."

He stopped in his search for Appropriate Clothing for a moment, trying to figure out what, exactly, the Vulcan had said. Repressed-Person speak for yes, he assumed.

Spock was still standing awkwardly by the door.

"Sit down," he said finally.

"Thank you, Captain, but I prefer to remain standing. However I do have a question regarding human culture if you would not mind such an inquiry."

"Of course not Spock- go ahead." (There was no way he was wearing that, he thought, dropping the shirt on the floor.)

"What indicates human boundaries involving interpersonal relationships and touch?"

"Umm. One of the most basic human interactions would be, I suppose, like the...shoulder slap thing. Or high five or hand shake but I guess that, y'know, all things considering, those aren't very Vulcan..." Jim realized he was essentially rambling and frowned for a second, wondering the cause for the other's interest. Oh yeah. Scientist. "Humans are expected to tolerate those interactions from, like, anyone. After that, touch gets more intimate- and you don't have to let anyone do that, but like- I dunno, hugs _can_ be platonic...But like holding hands. Do Vulcans do that?"

"Do all humans treat touch casually?" For once, he dropped the ever present silent _fascinating_ that he usually attached to the end of every sentence-

Kirk nearly missed the subtle stiffening of his first officer's voice. "A fair amount of us do, unfortunately...I don't, I mean. There are some...other indicators of human opinions that are generally tacitly implied rather than explicitly stated. If that's what you're looking for. For example, if I were to go 'Hey Spock have a seat' it would indicate that I enjoy your company and don't want you to leave yet. Oh..And Spock?"

The Vulcan looked up from his various musings to see that the captain had turned around to face him. "Yes, Captain?"

"...you can sit on the bed if you want, it's comfortable."

Spock did.

Kirk went back to rummaging through his clothes.

Their silence grew awkward and vaguely oppressive as Spock leaned up against the wall, his gaze still following the rather shirtless captain, who was somehow still undecided as to what fucking shirt to wear. Of course he was still agonizing over what to say next, but he was also searching for a shirt. He decided on flannel- Kirk _liked_ flannel. And this particular shirt as much as any. He'd had it for years-

"That is a most peculiar shirt, Captain." Spock looked amused, if quirking an eyebrow translated to amusement.

"Don't mock," Kirk said, buttoning up the shirt, "my _flannel_." The sleeves were making the task more difficult than it should have been- the cuffs of the sleeves were worn through and ripped, making his hands clumsy. "I _love_ this shirt. I've had it forever. Really."

"It would appear that you have, indeed, owned the article since the beginning of time, Capitan." There was a glimmer of humour in his dark- very dark- eyes.

"Was that a _joke_, Mr. Spock?" He smirked comfortably, straightening his shirt. "This shirt is _awesome_. I'm very fond of it. If I did have this at the beginning of time I'd have kept it all that time. Serious. Feel it, it's really soft."

Spock sat up, leaning forward and gripping the human's forearm with his left hand. The captain held still- deadly still- as the Vulcan traced his index an middle fingers down from his elbow most lightly-

It was just the ghost of a touch, but as the fabric frayed at Kirk's wrist, his first officer's skin touched his and to him it was like the most acute of warm static shocks straight to the bone. And Jim's eyes eyes followed those slender fingers, watching them almost touch his fingertips before halting-

He didn't look up, he just reached out with his arm- Spock let go suddenly and he was certain that the other's stoic expression had shifted-

"Fuck it," Kirk growled, and wrapped one hand around the Vulcan's wrist, dragging two golden fingers down to the other's palm, and tracing the creases there, then down to his wrist. He looked up, drawing small circles on the back of his hand.

Spock's head was just barely tilted back and his eyes were half-closed. As kirk intertwined his fingers with the other's, the Vulcan's mouth opened as he gasped.

"This is a slightly more intimate interaction, Captain," he said, finally looking up but not quite meeting Kirk's eyes.

It irritated the human that he sounded mostly unaffected, but then again he could remedy that. "Yeah," he said, and brought Spock's hand closer to him-

The captain kissed Spock's fingertips lightly, still staring at his almost-expression. He traced the insides of his fingers with one hand and began to kiss the skin between his forefinger and thumb- lightly at first, but-

Which was when Spock _growled_, and that was the only warning Jim had. Because suddenly he had been pulled down onto the Vulcan, then pinned to his own bed- and all quickly enough he barely had a chance to register such before Spock's mouth was on his neck and his breath was hot as hell-

His arms were pinned to the headboard by one of Spock's hands, stronger than him by devil may care how much and his skin burning more than feverishly- he had begun to sweat and the Vulcan's right hand was ripping his shirt off. Actually _ripping_.

Suddenly his teeth sank into Kirk's lower neck as he felt the shirt that definitely used to be in his body was tied around his wrists and what was most likely the bedpost, but he couldn't really be bothered to care.


End file.
